


Addictions and satisfactions

by Iwastemytimereading



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hickeys, Jealousy, M/M, Making Out, Possessive Charles, but like in a good way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 20:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30044229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwastemytimereading/pseuds/Iwastemytimereading
Summary: Sometimes addiction and satisfaction means the moment when someone looks at you with eyes that show love and want and happiness all at the same time.Or, Charles being jealous and possessive of Pierre
Relationships: Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc, daniel ricciardo/max verstappen mentioned
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	Addictions and satisfactions

**Author's Note:**

> so, just a quick one shot I wanted to write, cause the idea of possessive Charles is just way too much fun not to write really, so here you go.

It was a normal evening. Or at least, he thought it was supposed to be; a walk through the paddock, a drink or two at the McLaren hospitality and then back to his motorhome, it was the plan, a habit almost. Different race, different country, different team hosted the after-race party every time, it became a tradition through the years, a tradition that was passed on to the younger generations as well. It was the Bahrain race, but the racing itself was the furthest thing from anyone’s mind at the moment. Especially from Charles’. He didn’t see why he’d have to think about it every second of his free time, even if he did love racing and he loved the thrill and the adrenaline that came with it, but he was still human and he still needed a break.

And sometimes a break meant taking care of a certain Frenchman with blue eyes. And taking care may or may not have meant kissing the said Frenchman all over until all they could think about was each other, their breath hot on the other’s skin and lips and hair. And addiction and satisfaction didn’t always have to be adrenaline or the high you get after a race. It didn’t always have to be the dizziness that alcohol fills you with and makes you feel like you can do anything, and it doesn’t have to be chocolate, or winning a race, the smell of champagne still on your race suit and hair, eve hours after. Sometimes addiction and satisfaction means the moment when someone looks at you with eyes that show love and want and happiness all at the same time. And you can’t help but want more of it because it’s the way of the world. When you’re addicted to something it means you never want to let go and it means you always want to have it, be it alcohol or chocolate or the high after a race, you always want to have it right by your side.

And it also means that you don’t like to share it. And why would Charles want to share, really? If all he wanted was to walk through the paddock, looking at the yellow lights wrapped around the palm trees, walking side by side with Pierre who was telling him of the football team that won the day before and the pandas at the zoo. And so what if he tripped over a wire while walking towards the orange and white building? Pierre’s eyes shone brighter than the lights, it could happen to anyone, Charles really shouldn’t be judged so harshly for it, especially when it wasn’t his fault.

The people were gathering in front of the McLaren building already, the blue and green and red and white shirts of all the teams mixing under the stars, music echoing throughout the night, the smell of alcohol evident in the hot summer air, filling the people with the sense of relaxation. Charles as well. He was feeling relaxed at first, he really was, with Pierre next to him, one of Charles’ arms wrapped around his waist, both of them sitting on a warm bench with drinks in hands, not drunk, not even tipsy, just enjoying the feeling that was flowing around from one person to another. And he thought that it’d all go just like it did every other weekend. A couple words exchanged along with drinks and then they’d call it a night.

But seemingly, fate had other plans in store for him, because in the next moment Max appeared next to them, clinking his glass against Pierre’s, a smirk on his face and his hair a mess. And he truly did not have anything against Max, even if some people seemed to think so, he was fun to race against and fun to make fun of, but that was it. He didn’t want to kill him or anything, not until Max winked at Pierre in a way that could only be described as purely sexual, and Pierre _laughed._ He laughed. At a joke that Max steal your boyfriend Verstappen made. And that was a thing that Charles just couldn’t let happen now could he? He couldn’t just let Max take Pierre away from him, take away those eyes that looked at Charles like he was made of gold and the fingers that knew just where to press and pull and the lips that drew mirages on his skin knew how to kiss just right. He couldn’t let him take Pierre away, because Pierre was his, and Charles didn’t share.

And at first he saw that it was only Max that was talking in a not so purely friendly way to Pierre, but then Pierre got another glass of a red-bull vodka from god knows where and suddenly Pierre was the one that was leaning forwards and smiling and laughing and winking at Max, the Dutchman only responding to his words and actions more eagerly. And Charles… Charles was not happy, not even a little bit, not even at all. His hand buzzed with the want to punch Max, but it wasn’t all his fault, no matter how badly Charles didn’t want to admit it.

His left hand was still wrapped loosely around Pierre’s waist, as one does on a night out in Bahrain. He saw Pierre smirk then, at something that Max had said, the other grinning and Charles could see that Pierre was about to respond, say something that would make his blood boil even more. He tightened his arm around Pierre’s waist, not a lot, but just enough. Enough so that Pierre could feel it, feel Charles’ fingers making their way underneath Pierre’s light white and navy shirt, feel those fingers pressing against the skin where he left a few marks the night before, as a reminder, a subtle one, that he loved him, and that Pierre is his and his only. Not to anyone else, no one could see that anyway, no one but Pierre. And Pierre loves it, loves the feel of Charles’ lips on his skin, loves seeing the results of the night before on his skin, as a proof, as a reminder of who he belongs to.

And now he's reminding him again, in public, with an arm around his waist, his fingers slipping under his shirt, but not noticeably. Just enough to make Pierre stop talking, to make him melt slightly into Charles and almost let loose a sound he hides with a cough, the glass in his hand shaking, the liquid almost spilling on the floor entirely. Max raises an eyebrow at him, asking if he’s alright, but Pierre just nods, knowing his words would reveal his thoughts if he spoke and well. Talking about the things you want to do to fellow racing driver (or a rival, whatever the media is calling it these days) and talking about it in public, it doesn’t sound like the greatest of ideas. Especially if those things are bedroom related thoughts. Even as he feels Charles’ fingers brush across his skin, caressing it a way that can’t be mistaken for anything else but loving. Maybe with a bit of possessiveness added to the mix, but that’s something for Pierre to think about later, much, much later. Not in public, with Max in front of him and Charles almost glued to his side.

And Charles saw it, saw it the minute they arrived at the building, saw the way Max was looking at Pierre, saw that Max could see the way Pierre's shirt fitted him like a second skin, showing off the abs and pecs and every single muscle of his arms hidden and yet on show. And it was the last thing that Charles wanted to see. Because he should be the only one who got to see Pierre like that. The only one who got to see his muscles fully on display and the excitement visible on his skin and in his eyes, the eyes that loved and wanted and begged for more. Charles should be the only one to get to touch Pierre, to drag off his shirt after a long day, the Frenchman’s hair a mess, a mix of sweat and expensive perfume, to see his eyes when he was tired and all he wanted were Charles’ arms holding him close, his thoughts at ease and his lips being kissed over and over again, sweet and short and promising more.

And because Charles should be the only one that got to see Pierre in the mornings, his voice still raspy from sleep, his eyes half closed as he hugged Charles from behind, his fingers running gently up and down the other’s skin, his shoulders, his arms, his stomach, his lips. And he was the only one to kiss Pierre after every race, as a _‘hi, I love you, you’re alright’_. And Charles should be the only one that got to see Pierre after his workouts, his gym shorts slung low on his hips and his t-shirt long abandoned, thrown over one of the workout machines. And Pierre should not be showing off to every other guy in the paddock to see the way his arms tensed up when he worked with the mechanics or when he was helping the people at the AlphaTauri hospitalities put away the tables after a long day. And such a guy as Max Verstappen certainly had no business looking at Pierre the way that he was, his intentions clear in his eyes.

And maybe Charles had more to drink that he would like to admit, and he didn’t see the way that Dan hugged Max to his side when they first arrived that night or the not-so-subtle kiss they shared. And after all, it was a party and there was alcohol involved, and the lights on the roof and the palm trees made Pierre’s eyes sparkle and his hair glow golden. So really, Charles couldn’t and shouldn’t be held responsible for his actions at the next moment.

People really shouldn’t laugh and shake their heads, and Lando certainly shouldn’t say _‘I knew it’._ And Carlos really shouldn’t hand the younger one ten dollars. All that really shouldn’t happen at the mere action which was really only Charles tilting Pierre’s chin just right, connecting his lips with the other’s, his left hand still tight around Pierre’s waist, not letting go, only pulling the Frenchman closer, tasting the sweetness of red bull and the blunt taste of vodka on his tongue, savoring it, committing it to memory.

And really, it wasn’t anyone’s business but theirs if Pierre had one more mark by the end of the night, this time on his neck, not even bothering to hide it, sometimes running his fingers over it, looking at Charles with more than just want in his eyes.

Because addiction and satisfaction didn’t always have to be alcohol or chocolate or the high after a race. Sometimes it could be the knowledge that someone loves you as much as you love them and the way they look at you after you kiss them, their lips swollen red. Sometimes it can be knowing, or thinking at least, that you showed certain people just who is yours and who you belong to. And sometimes that gives you more satisfaction than any drug or drink in the world. And as always it leaves you wanting more and more and more. And things that leave you on that kind of a high, on a 24/7 kind of high, are hard to find, and therefore really shouldn’t be shared.

And when Charles looked at Pierre later that night, seeing the mark on his neck and the love in his eyes, feeling the alcohol fly out of his system, leaving him only with the man before him, the man that he loved and that he never would stop loving and never could share. And the mark on his neck, red a bit, it would disappear in a few days, but people would still know, still remember their kiss, the way they looked at each other, the way that Charles’ arms were wrapped around Pierre. Would remember how Charles’ hand always somehow made its way to wrap around Pierre’s waist, hand, shoulders. Would know and see and remember it all because…

Because Pierre was his, as simple as that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this, if you liked it feel free to leave a comment or a kudos, i'm also on tumblr as iwastemytimereading1 if you ever wanna come and say hi


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